


fangtastic, baby || chanbaek au

by chasingchanbaek



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Jokes, Cute, Drama, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gothic Horror but Crack, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Romance, Slight Angst?, Supernatural Beings, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, Werewolves, please dont hate me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-03-01 15:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13297470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingchanbaek/pseuds/chasingchanbaek
Summary: Park Chanyeol, up-and-coming singer/songwriter with a deadly secret. Byun Baekhyun, part-time photographer and full-time nuisance with a deadly smile. A chance encounter leads the two to each other, but fate keeps them together.Or,Chanyeol is naive, Baekhyun enjoys teasing him, and a lot of crazy shit happens in between.Oh, and vampires. Lots of 'em.['Picture Perfect' Reboot]





	1. author's note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this fanfic has been renamed to 'fangtastic, baby' from 'picture perfect'.

hey guys, R here.

(don't worry, these author's notes will be deleted once I update more)

the last few months, i've been trying **really hard** to come up with a plot that i'm happy with - i lost sight of the original idea for this story, and i've been unable to write since then.

however, recently, i thought it wouldn't hurt to think of the wildest plot ideas and then work my way down to something i could actually write - and the problem is, once i thought of something wild, i ended up  _liking it._

with a little persuasion from friends, family, and one kind stranger, i've decided to go ahead and re-write this story with the new plotline. much of it will remain the same, but the genre itself will have changed to fantasy.

 

 _ **please** _ let me know what you think of this, so that i may do my best to write the kind of story you want to read, and then re-read.

 

 

with all the love,

R


	2. prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.

It is nighttime for this side of the world.

 

He's twitching in his sleep, brows scrunched in discomfort. The dreams are coming again; something is in his room, everywhere and nowhere at once.

It’s creeping from beneath his bed, lurking in his closet, crawling from the windows. The mirror beside his door cracks slowly, and he opens his eyes to see a shadow standing in the reflection, right next to him.

 

A shadow holding a stake.

 

Chanyeol bites back a scream, squeezes his eyes shut, and turns over, a ragged breath escaping his mouth. He holds the blankets up to cover his head, allowing himself to be engulfed in the welcoming darkness beneath the sheets. He hopes it’ll be enough for the monsters to disappear, but he can’t shut out the voices that he knows are coming next.

Something shifts, and suddenly he hears familiar voices. His parents, and his sister.

_Liar._

_Murderer._

_Monster._

 

A bead of sweat rolls down his neck, slowly darkening the cloth of the thin T-shirt he’d worn to bed. He wants to cry out for help, but he doesn’t know who to call. Opening his eyes again, in hopes of dispelling the voices, Chanyeol sees how his room is illuminated sharply by the luminous moon outside, its large white face watching him, cold and emotionless. Full moon night.

He closes his eyes. The time when creatures like him come out to play – and yet.

Yet there he is, holding himself back, _forcing_ himself to go under the pull of the pills he'd popped earlier that night.

Pills that are clearly _not working_.

 

Chanyeol's eyes snap open of their own accord, the dark of his eyes suddenly an unnatural shade of red. He feels his canines extending, the sharp tips brushing the soft skin of his lower lip, and winces as it draws blood. He's hungry, but he can't go out and hunt.

 

Chanyeol cannot hunt because he isn't the kind of vampire people read about – for one, he's somewhat famous and being caught on camera feeding, blood staining his mouth, wouldn't exactly go down well with his management.

 

 

But mostly, he's vegetarian.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello~!  
> this has taken me a lot of time to finally put together and i'm still working out some kinks in my plotline but i REALLY hope you'll enjoy this new version of 'picture perfect'. as always, i welcome feedback and constructive criticism so don't feel shy to drop me a comment (or two!)
> 
> thank you for reading, i hope you'll stick around <3
> 
> \- r


	3. one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *trailer voice* 
> 
> the encounter

 

 

“Is that him? It looks like him...should we go ask?”

“No, that’s definitely him, see how tall he is! And that jacket? He said on Knowing Siblings that he had it _custom made_.”

Park Chanyeol tugged the bucket hat on his head lower onto his face, his other hand making sure the face mask he was wearing was doing its job. He should have been used to the attention after all this time, but he so rarely went out like this that sometimes it still startled him. If Kris hadn’t sent him an SOS text, he’d still be in his dorm, probably hiding from his manager.

Chanyeol quickened his pace down the street, aware of the growing gaggle of people trailing after him, in an effort to maintain some distance if not lose them altogether. He made sure to stay in the shade, his skin being more sensitive than others, and because he could blend in with those seeking shelter from the summer sun. He loved being tall, but sometimes it proved to be quite disadvantageous when it came to subterfuge, his curly head bobbing at level with umbrellas.

Deciding to call Kris, he reached into his pocket for his phone. Chanyeol cast a glance over his shoulder, and without really thinking about it, he suddenly ducked down a street he hadn’t been down before. He’d lived in Seoul for years now, ever since he’d moved to become an idol trainee, but the management never allowed him out unless it was relevant to his schedule, so he hadn’t really spent time exploring the city for himself. Having established himself now, Chanyeol was given more freedom than before, but sometimes – just sometimes – he still wished he could go back home and erase the last few years. The distance between his childhood dreams and his reality were too far apart for him to be truly happy with what he did; but it was too late for that now. He couldn’t go back home, and it was for reasons more than his 10 year-long contract.

Dialling Kris's number, he waited a few seconds, receiving no answer. Rolling his eyes to himself – Kris rarely answered his phone...why did he even _have_ one? – Chanyeol continued walking down the street, admiring the architecture of the buildings on either side. He watched his own reflection in the storefronts’ glass windows, and suddenly there were tears in eyes. He had Kris to thank for being so emotional, but he wouldn’t be able to tell the other boy anything if he couldn’t find him.

The street finally opened out onto a wider road, forming a T, that was intersected by a small tree growing in the junction where the roads met. It appeared to be part of the city’s scheme of making things ‘greener’, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but think of how his mother would love it…

He shook his head, and switched his focus to the girls still following behind him. The surprisingly unpopulated road seemed to be leading to a park, so Chanyeol turned on his GPS to figure out where he was. Realizing he wasn’t too far from where he was meant to meet Kris, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to duck into the park for a few minutes, enough to lose the gaggle of girls pursuing him. Besides, he could do with some peace and quiet under the shade.

 Chanyeol made his way over to the park, hoping to find the most secluded spot. It was a Wednesday afternoon, which meant he had some time before school let out and work hours finished for the day.

A few minutes of searching proved successful, and he zeroed in on a small wooden bench nestled amongst a cluster of flowering bushes, an oak tree spreading its branches overhead. He sat down with a sigh, glad to be hidden from the rest of the park visitors.

Chanyeol watched the few people in the park, noticing without much surprise that it was mostly couples with young children, or older people playing chess in the shade. His attention was caught by one particular couple, laughing as their child – a young boy, it seemed – ran about, pretending to hide behind lampposts and dustbins. It took him back to the last time he’d been home, when his sister had just had a baby and he’d spent time playing with his nephew. Chanyeol’s heart hurt; he really wanted to go home.

Suddenly, he heard his name being yelled out in decidedly female voices, and his eyes widened in panic. He should’ve known they’d figure out where he’d go, because he’d said multiple times on radio segments and variety shows that he enjoyed the outdoors. Still, he felt his heart racing, unable to think of how to escape this situation. Chanyeol had little experience with protecting himself when he’d spent the recent years trailed by either his management, bodyguards, or both.

It’s not like he was scared of his fans, per se, he just didn’t have the energy to deal with people at the moment. Chanyeol winced when he lifted himself off the bench, realizing he was already beginning to develop a sunburn.

_This is bad._

Peeking out from behind the bushes, he looked to his left, and then his right. The park entry was to his left, also the source of the commotion, so that was out of the question. And to his right...Chanyeol squinted, finding only one other person in the vicinity. The person was bent over a rock, camera in hand, and seemed completely oblivious to the oncoming stampede.

Realizing he didn’t have much of a choice, Chanyeol whipped off his jacket, hung it around his shoulders like a cape (ironic, he thought with a grimace), and made a dash for it. Bending as low as he could, the singer sprinted along the thick hedge that was the only thing currently between his fans and himself. Chanyeol zig-zagged, hiding behind various objects every now and then, much like the little boy he’d seen just a few minutes prior. He was sure he was about as inconspicuous as a neon sign, had anyone been watching, but considering he couldn’t see anyone behind him right then, the idol figured he was safe.

Chanyeol’s long legs enabled him to reach the photography enthusiast, evidently a boy, in less than a minute: and he knew he didn’t have much more time before the girls in the distance turned and spotted him.

“Excuse me, I know this is random but it’s kind of an emergency, can I borrow your camera please?” he whispered rapidly, tapping the boy on the shoulder.

The boy straightened up, turned around, and looked him in the eye. Chanyeol thought he saw a flicker of fear in the boy’s eyes, but it was gone in a blink. The boy took up a posture of indifference, and glared at the singer. For a boy a head shorter than he was, Chanyeol thought he was rather brave.

One eyebrow quirked, lips pursed, the boy gave no hint that he knew who Chanyeol was (although, in the stranger’s defence, half his face was covered…) and instead seemed annoyed at being disturbed.

“In case you didn’t realize, I’m a little busy.”

Chanyeol froze for a second, wondering if he’d heard that voice before. But that wasn’t possible, he’d never seen this boy before, and given Chanyeol’s above-average memory, Chanyeol was sure he would’ve remembered him.

“I’m really sorry, it’s just that I’m in a bit of a fix and I need some help,”

“How’s my camera supposed to help? Are you sure you’re not running from the police?”

“No, I swear I’m not –”

“Okay but how do I know you’re not going to steal it?”

“I won’t, I promise. I’m being hunted –”

“Snap! Knew it. By the police? Or,” the boy gasped dramatically, one hand covering his mouth, “By the _mafia?_ ”

Chanyeol groaned in frustration; clearly this was going nowhere. He had to tell the boy who he was, so maybe then he’d understand how he was wasting precious seconds.

“Do you know who I am?”

The boy’s eyes widened – was there a hint of mockery there? – and he gasped again, taking a step back, moving to hold the DSLR strapped around his neck in a protective embrace. There was a hint of a smile on the stranger’s lips, and it was beginning to deeply irritate Chanyeol. If this boy – who looked like he should’ve been in school, or at least college, was a theatre student, everything would make a lot more sense considering his over the top reactions.

“So, you’re a felon with an identity crisis?”

Chanyeol grit his teeth, the muscles in his jaw clenching almost painfully. The girls would be onto him any moment now.

“No. I’m uh, an idol, and those girls over there,” he gestured behind him, making sure to keep his back facing their direction, “are my fans and although I love them with all my heart, I just don’t have the energy to interact with anyone. Do you understand why I need to hide? I can’t meet them like this and disappoint them!”

The boy rolled his eyes, running a hand through his inky black hair. The collar of his white shirt was slightly upturned, and the wrinkles along his sleeves and down his dark jeans (how did he manage to wrinkle denim?) gave the stranger an appearance of having just rolled out of bed, or a high-fashion photoshoot. A branded watch that Chanyeol recognized as special edition glinted on his wrist, and it told the idol that either this boy was a wealthy college student, or he was older than he looked.

“Ha-ha, let me guess, you’re in NCT?”

“Uh, what?”

“You’ve no idea how many times I’ve heard that one. You’re cute but not that cute, alright? Nice try.”

“Okay hold on a minute here –”

“I guess kids these days would go to any lengths to flick things from nice strangers, huh?”

Chanyeol had reached his limit of patience. How dare this stranger condescend to him, and had he just spoken to him informally?

Letting loose a frustrated grunt, Chanyeol pulled his face mask down, and gestured exaggeratedly at his face, and the boy stopped smirking. Flooded with relief, Chanyeol grinned. It had taken longer than he’d expected (should he have felt offended?) but at least he had a chance of rescue now that this impudent boy knew who he was. Chanyeol didn’t enjoy throwing his weight around or using his fame for anything but goodwill, but he thought that the circumstance had called for it.

_I just need to hide and then I can feel guilty later._

“Oh, you…you’re the dude in all those Wommy Milfiger ads.”

“Yes. Do you believe me now?”

“I saw that billboard on my way here,” the boy whispered, squinting his eyes, staring unblinking at the idol who was slowly growing uncomfortable. The girls were getting closer…

The stranger looked down, his foot nudging a small rucksack lying nearby that had previously escaped Chanyeol’s notice.

“What will I get in return?”

“Satisfaction for aiding a good cause?”

 

The boy laughed.

 

“Okay, I’ll help you. I have an idea, but you may not like it.”

 

_Finally._

 

“Thank you so much, uh...I don’t know your name?”

The boy tilted his head to the side, his nose growing shiny with the reflected sunlight. Eyelashes fluttering slowly, he smiled mischievously, pale fingers drumming on the top of his camera.

“Baekhyun. You could call me sir, though, if you want.”

 

Chanyeol resisted smacking the smirk off his face.

 

 

***

 

 

Fortunately for Chanyeol, Baekhyun’s idea worked. Unfortunately for him, if anyone ever saw him in the condition he was in, it would be all over the news – he’d never live it down.

“Was this really necessary?” Chanyeol was asking now, his body aching from having had to stay stock-still the last few minutes. He stood up, stretching, wincing as the muscles in his shoulders throbbed.

The plan had been more ridiculous than he could’ve guessed, yet somehow it had been enough to get rid of the people who’d taken the trouble to follow him about. They’d walked right past the idol, having absolutely no idea that he’d been under their noses the whole time, quite literally.

 Baekhyun shrugged, grinning. He looked even smaller with Chanyeol’s bucket hat on his head, wispy tufts of dark hair poking out from the sides. The hat suited him, but the idol wasn’t about to admit that out loud. Not when he’d learnt the hard way what kind of person Baekhyun was proving to be.

“I did say you wouldn’t like it. But it worked, did it not?”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, but he knew the smaller boy was right. Although annoyed, he was grudgingly grateful to this virtual stranger for having saved him in his moment of need, and he figured he could swallow his ego for once.

“Yeah. Thank you, I’ll forever be indebted, but I think I’ll be going now. Can I have my hat back, please?”

Baekhyun pouted, muttering something about being ‘a meanie’ but gave it back nonetheless. Chanyeol watched as he gathered up the sheet Chanyeol had been forced to crawl under (never again would he fall for the ‘are you as strong as you look?’ line) and folded it up before stuffing it into his rucksack.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr Park. If you ever decide to retire from singing, you could definitely help out at the local theatre. I hear they’re short of props.”

Chanyeol glared.

“You’re welcome,” sang Baekhyun in a nasal tone.

“You never saw me, I was never here, this never happened. Okay?”

Baekhyun nodded, mock saluting. He hefted the rucksack onto his back, and when Chanyeol turned away in exasperation, he snapped a quick picture of the frazzled idol. He was extremely pleased with himself for having remembered to turn off the shutter sound, and a quick glance at the screen told him he’d managed to take a good picture. Baekhyun wasn’t being creepy, it was just that the lighting was great and Chanyeol was cute. He was lucky the latter hadn’t caught him, because he definitely didn’t want to mess with a guy who had to be at least five inches taller than him. (More than he’d already messed with him, that is.)

 “Okay, I’m leaving now. Thanks again, and good luck with your uh, rock photography.”

With that, Chanyeol pulled on his face mask, tugged down the hat, and began to walk away. He was surprised – to say the least – to find Baekhyun calmly walk in the same direction, matching his pace as if they’d been friends for years.

“Are you following me?” Chanyeol asked, a little incredulously.

Baekhyun frowned, and gave him a look of distaste. Chanyeol thought he saw a little bit of that fear he’d seen when he’d first bumped into Baekhyun, but it was gone before he could analyse it fully. Baekhyun was a little strange to say the least, and he behaved years younger than he looked.

“Now, why would I do that? I can’t help it if the exit is this way.”

Chanyeol flushed in embarrassment, recalling that yes, this park only had one way out (wasn’t that why he’d asked for Baekhyun’s help in the first place?) and they were on the path to it. He suddenly felt stupid, and decided it was his celebrity status that had caused him to become so paranoid.

He mumbled an apology, hands sliding into the pockets of his skinny jeans. They walked together in silence till they had reached the exit gates, and were making moves to step out onto the road.

“Bye, then,” Baekhyun said simply, before going down the street Chanyeol recognized as the one he’d come from. Chanyeol frowned, but followed, knowing that this was the only way he could find his way to where he was supposed to meet Kris. Evidently his presence was still felt by Baekhyun, who, even from a distance of a few feet away, spoke loudly without turning around.

“Who’s following whom now?”

Chanyeol felt his face heat up once more, figuring that he was probably close to resembling a beetroot. He looked around nervously, making sure nobody was giving him more attention than was normal for a stranger, and then jogged to catch up with the dark-haired boy. Baekhyun was humming under his breath, and didn’t seem surprised to see Chanyeol suddenly beside him.

“I wasn’t following you. You’re just walking in the direction I’m meant to be going in too,” explained Chanyeol, taking his phone out to try calling Kris again, eager to dispel any ideas of him being as creepy as he’d accused Baekhyun of being. Kris still wasn’t picking up, and Chanyeol’s phone was running low on battery with his excessive use of Google Maps, so the idol was hoping his friend would be waiting for him at the designated café.

Baekhyun shrugged like he couldn’t care less, but he resumed his humming, and Chanyeol took it as a good sign. He wasn’t sure why he even cared what the boy thought of him, but he found Baekhyun to be intimidating in a subtle way. Sort of like that one substitute teacher in school who’d feign indifference until tested, then they’d suddenly put the Wicked Witch of the West to shame.

The pair parted ways two streets down, in front of the café Chanyeol identified as his rendezvous point. Baekhyun had now strapped his rucksack backwards, the camera safely hidden somewhere in there, and there was a singular earphone bud dangling from one ear. Strands of his hair were flying gently in the summer breeze, and his face was gaining colour under unfiltered sunlight. Chanyeol wondered if his own face was the same, remembering his extremely sunburn-prone skin, convinced that his nose would probably be peeling by the end of the day.

“Guess this is it, Mr Park.”

Chanyeol nodded, shaken out of his thoughts. He found himself caught in Baekhyun’s steady gaze, and felt suddenly like the boy could see right through him. Almost as if he knew who Chanyeol really was.

“Yeah.”

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow, almost challengingly, leaning against the glass of the bus stop a few feet away.

“Aren’t you going inside?”

Chanyeol shrugged, burrowing his hands further into his pockets. He was beginning to sweat under his mask, and images of a tall glass of iced coffee danced invitingly in his mind; images that he had to dispel, because he was on a diet. A very strict one, so he wished Kris would just hurry up.

“I’ll stick around till my friend comes around, thanks.”

The shorter boy nodded, slipping the second earphone bud into his ear. He vaulted off the glass wall, and began walking to stand at the edge of the sidewalk, presumably to board the bus that was pulling up.

“See you around,” Chanyeol offered half-heartedly, not really expecting a response. Baekhyun seemed like the type to play his music at full volume and still live another day without going deaf, probably even sing along obnoxiously. The singer could only wonder what he was listening to.

“I reckon you will,” came the answer, and then the strange camera-wielding boy was on the bus.

Flustered, Chanyeol quickly walked into the café, taking a seat at a table towards the back. He pulled off his hat, and ran a hand through hair that was becoming slick with sweat. Closing his eyes, the idol leaned back into the padded chair, releasing a sigh. He was so tired these days.

 _Beep!_ went his phone. Chanyeol slowly opened his eyes, and unlocked the device he’d left on the table in front of him.

 

**_From Kris:_ **

_sorry bro, got caught up. ☹ SOS was 4 coffee, see u tom?_

 

Just his luck, then, to get caught up in a wild adventure only for his best friend to ditch him once again. SOS, his ass, thought Chanyeol grimly, likening Kris to the boy who cried wolf.

Deciding his diet could go to hell along with his stupid manager, Chanyeol ordered himself the iced coffee he’d been craving for weeks, feeling slightly better when the barista recognized him just by his voice.

Going back to his table, Chanyeol sat down and began to read a Webtoon on his phone, coffee in hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chanyeol is sad and jongdae is a dumbshit

Baekhyun’s heart was still racing as he settled into his seat on the bus, one hand clutching his neck.

_Calm down._

He’d come too close, far too close for his liking; if his boss found out what he’d done, he’d be in hot water. Maybe even literally, considering her temperament.

Baekhyun was sure he’d seen some semblance of recognition in Chanyeol’s eyes, but he was hoping it was just his own paranoia that had made him think that. He was good at what he did even if he was still somewhat a novice, and he _knew_ he’d been careful the last few weeks. Chanyeol couldn’t possibly know who he was.

The music pumping loudly in his ears was slowly starting to help his breathing even out, and Baekhyun shifted his attention to the passing scenery out the bus window. It was little past four in the afternoon, and he had to be back in the studio by five so he figured he was making good time.

Although…the fact that he’d been given so much time just for a simple assignment bothered him. Either his boss thought he wasn’t capable enough, or he was dealing with someone far smarter than he’d thought.

Baekhyun’s phone began to ring, blaring a pop song that had many on the bus give him strange looks. Blushing, he pulled the black buzzing object out of his pocket, feeling the heat in his face turn ice cold at the sight of the caller ID.

Oh, she knew. He should’ve known posting something on his Finstagram would come back to bite him in the ass, but he could never resist sharing a good photo. He only wished his life didn’t depend on it just then.

Baekhyun picked up, hands shaking only slightly.

“Please don’t kill me.”

 

***

 

“So, you’re telling me he _sat_ on you the whole time?”

Chanyeol was back in his dorm, reclining on the sofa in one of the two rooms in his tiny flat. The management had upgraded him to a larger living space the previous year, but he was still within their reach, having moved only to another floor in the same building.

A small flat, but perhaps too big for the singer who rarely spent time there – he was either out in the studio (be it of the recording or the dance kind) or at Kris’ bachelor pad. Still, the place was the closest to a home, and Chanyeol felt comfortable enough there to be dressed in his oldest, most faded clothes, like he was right now.

His feet were propped up on the coffee table in front of him, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap, the bottom kernels slightly burnt from the microwave he was sure had a vendetta against him.

Despite having taken a hot shower, he could still feel pain in his lower back, and had placed a heated water bag behind him. Sure, he trained in the gym every alternate day and executed (or tried to, anyway) complicated dance routines for all the songs he performed, but even _that_ couldn’t compare to a fully-grown man resting his entire weight on Chanyeol’s (previously injured) back.

He wondered briefly where Baekhyun was right then, and what someone who must’ve been around his age was doing taking pictures of rocks when he probably should’ve been at college.

“Yeah. I was basically a human, uh, _bench_ , if that makes sense. Either way, it was a dumb idea and my back is _killing_ me now,” he answered, watching as his cousin Jongdae poured himself his second glass of soju.

Jongdae hadn’t been invited, he’d simply called to let Chanyeol know that he was coming over, and to ask if there was any alcohol in the fridge (there wasn’t, so Jongdae had brought his own) and food to eat. Chanyeol had needed to vent about his unusual day anyway, so he’d refrained from telling the doorman to restrict Jongdae’s entry like he usually did, even going as far as to make his cousin some ramyun. He loved his cousin, but the older man could be a little…unpredictable sometimes. Once, he’d got Chanyeol piss drunk the night before a radio interview, and the singer had had to attend wearing a suspiciously dark pair of sunglasses, his head throbbing with regret.

“Wait, wait. And then he covered you with a sheet, pretending you were this ‘bench’? That _actually_ worked?”

“Yes, Jongdae,” Chanyeol muttered, beginning to feel annoyed with his cousin’s obvious amusement. He’d purposely dropped the honorifics out of pettiness, but Jongdae was grinning, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It could only mean trouble, and Chanyeol felt a shudder go down his spine at the thought of his cousin pulling any more devious tricks; he was too tired.

“Ah, poor Chanyeol-ah. First time being the bottom?” Jongdae teased, cackling as Chanyeol promptly choked on his popcorn. Now _that_ he hadn’t been expecting.

“That’s completely unrelated!” he squawked, feeling his face heating up in embarrassment.

“Don’t knock it till you try it, cuz. Was he cute?”

Having recovered from the attack of embarrassment he’d fallen victim to, Chanyeol cleared his throat nervously and looked away. Chanyeol knew he played for the opposite team, had known for years now, but he’d become so accustomed to hiding – or worse, denying – it that it still made him feel awkward and uncomfortable acknowledging it out loud. Jongdae knew, and reserved no judgement, because he himself played for _both_ teams. In the eyes of the public, especially his fans, Chanyeol played for the same team; or rather, didn’t play at all because he was too “innocent” (or whatever his management liked to use as an excuse for keeping his love life on a tight leash).

The baseball metaphors were beginning to confuse Chanyeol so he thought instead of Baekhyun, recalling the boy’s features, trying his best to describe him in detail.

“Yeah, he was. Small and intimidating, but cute.”

Jongdae rolled his eyes.

“Wow, _so descriptive,_ I could paint a portrait of him right now.”

“Okay, okay. I’d say about your height,”

Jongdae sputtered, yelling offense at being indirectly called short, and Chanyeol ignored him, “…dark hair, and a smile that made me feel like he probably had something treacherous up his sleeve. Like a knife, or something.”

His cousin raised an eyebrow at that, his annoyance already ebbing. Jongdae leaned back against the wooden frame of the window seat he was stretched out on, the glass in his hand already nearly empty. The man could hold alcohol better than a keg could, thought Chanyeol.

Jongdae was his first cousin on his mother’s side, the only family he had in Seoul, and the closest he’d ever get to having a brother. He worked as a corporate lawyer, and that _almost_ justified his questionable drinking habits.

“Sounds like my type. What’s his name?”

“I don’t really know much more than his first name –”

“Which is?”

“Baekhyun. He looked pretty young, though and – hey, what are you doing with my phone? Put it down!”

Soju forgotten, Jongdae had swiftly grabbed Chanyeol’s phone and was busy scrolling through what looked like his Finstagram feed. The older man knew better than to ‘like’ any posts, considering there were a few thousand people out there tracking every virtual step of the singer, but that didn’t stop him from poking around his cousin’s personal account. With a few taps of the screen, Jongdae was clicking on the search option, attempting to find the boy Chanyeol had deemed cute.

“Don’t you want to find him? He’s probably here somewhere,”

Chanyeol shook his head.

“No thanks, hyung, I already told you he seemed like trouble. And that’s exactly what I _don’t_ need. Why are you looking at me like that? Stop looking like you’ve smelt something bad,”

Jongdae was eyeing him with distaste, a look Chanyeol had received often enough to give it a name: the _Chanyeol-stop-being-a-party-pooper-and-be-more-like-me_ look, or in short, CSBAPPABMLM. Whatever the name, it generally meant Jongdae was going to say something insulting about Chanyeol’s decision-making skills, so the idol tried to nip it in the bud.

“Even if you find him, what am I supposed to do? Stalk him and end up on his cousin’s wife’s brother’s dog’s profile page only to realize that none of it matters because I’ll probably never see him again?”

Ignoring him completely, Jongdae continued to scroll, suddenly pausing, finger hovering over a name Chanyeol couldn’t read from where he was sat.

 “Bingo, this guy fits the name and your description, but uh, you might want to see this.”

Jongdae thrust the phone into Chanyeol’s line of vision, causing the latter to narrow his eyes in annoyance. He wasn’t usually the grumpy type, but he’d had a long day, that too when he was supposed to be relaxing; damn Kris for ditching him like that. Chanyeol snatched the phone from his irksome cousin, and with a final glare, focused on the pictures on the screen.

_‘Byun BaekHyun’_ read the bio, _‘Photographer at @bj_studios. Contact details available on my website’_ , and a link below. Chanyeol paused, feeling like he’d heard that studio name before, and knew enough English to wonder who’d thought such a name was a good idea.

“’BJ Studios? Really?” he asked out loud, eliciting a snigger from his cousin, the lawyer taking a bite of his noodles.

“Does it say anything else about him? Check his website,” instructed Jongdae, mouth full of ramyun, possibly the most disgusting thing Chanyeol had seen that day.

But the singer didn’t hear him, too busy scrolling down Baekhyun’s feed, his suspicions confirmed when he saw a picture of the boy in question posing next to a pretty girl, the pair wearing matching grins and sweaters. The caption was _“Suzy-ssi, fighting!”,_ with the girl’s account tagged. It was the only picture of Baekhyun on his feed, the rest of it being from various photoshoots that he’d appeared to have taken part in.

So Baekhyun really _was_ a photographer.

Chanyeol scrolled back up, noticing for the first time the follower count – 40,000. In surprise, he tapped on Baekhyun’s profile picture, and his Story popped open. The most recently uploaded picture was striking; golden light, the subject of the photo almost fully a silhouette, backlit by afternoon sun. Chanyeol didn’t have to look too close to know who it was.

After all, he saw that face every day in the mirror.

Granted, a lens flare obscured most of his features, but he’d recognize his own ears (not to mention his limited edition Milfiger jacket) anywhere.

Chanyeol wondered if he should report Baekhyun for uploading that picture of him without his permission, then decided against it. He didn’t really want to establish contact with the boy (or man? Who knew how old he was), and besides, his face was barely visible, so did it really even matter?

“Well?” prompted Jongdae, gesturing with his free hand, the other occupied with the bowl of ramyun. He had some of the ramyun gravy stuck on the corner of his mouth, but Chanyeol kept this observation to himself.

“Well what?” Chanyeol responded instead, tiredly. He had a few songs to record early tomorrow morning which meant he had to get his lyrics in order, tweak the composition on one of his pieces, and send them all to his producer before dinner. Checking his watch, he realized he had about two hours to do that, and he wondered how long Jongdae was staying.

“You _know_ what. It’s been so long since you met someone, Yeol, are you going to tell me you aren’t even a little bit interested?”

Chanyeol opened his mouth to answer, but it seemed Jongdae wasn’t waiting for an answer, proving again that he knew the singer better than he realized.

“Don’t give me that shit about your dating ban, I know it was lifted a few months ago. And yeah, it’ll be hard to see him in secret, but you won’t be the first, and _certainly not_ the last idol to have an actual life outside all this…showtime stuff.” He leaned closer, placing the bowl onto the coffee table with a clunk, beside Chanyeol’s feet. “What are you so afraid of?”

Chanyeol felt his heart stop. (Well, it would have stopped if it had been beating in the first place).

His stomach felt like it had dropped to his toes, sort of like when he’d taken the elevator to the top floor of an exceptionally tall building – it made him dizzy, and he was trying desperately to keep the memories waiting just at the edge of his consciousness from flooding back. Jongdae had just asked a dangerous question, and he wasn’t sure his cousin wanted to know the real reason.

He closed his eyes, curled and uncurled his fingers, splaying them across his lap, the popcorn forgotten. The voices had started, and although it was scarier at night, this was the first time he’d experienced it with someone else in the room – and _that_ scared him, because it reminded him what he was capable of. Reminded him that he wasn’t like Jongdae, or Kris, or even Baekhyun. He was not normal, never would be again, and he’d have to live with that, _was_ living with it. Why did anyone else have to, too? What if he snapped one day and lost control?

What if he hurt someone like the last time…

“Yeol? Are you okay?”

Jongdae had no idea what he was, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“I didn’t know you felt so strongly about this, I’m sorry. We can talk about this some other time, okay? Dating someone isn’t a priority, I just thought it’d be nice for you…You’ve been looking so low, so unlike yourself, it’s had me worried for a while.”

Chanyeol’s eyes fluttered open, catching the concerned gaze of his cousin. Jongdae’s eyebrows had furrowed, his teeth worrying his lower lip. He looked like he did in court, and that meant he was _really_ worried. But Chanyeol couldn’t tell him, he couldn’t tell anyone he cared about.

The only people who knew were his managers, because they were the ones protecting him, giving him a place to stay.

They’d met others like him, they’d said, and they would take care of him. And they had.

“Y-yeah I just, I don’t really want to talk about it, hyung. I’m sorry too, for worrying you? Just have a lot on my mind…” Chanyeol trailed off uncertainly, wanting nothing more than to just tell Jongdae everything, finally be free of the weight on his chest that only seemed to be getting heavier with every passing day. One day it would smother him, suffocate him till he couldn’t breathe anymore, and even then, he felt he wouldn’t have the courage to tell the truth.

“That’s okay, take your time, buddy. Have you been sleeping alright?”

Ah, where to begin with that one? Chanyeol had been constantly plagued by nightmares the last two weeks, and he knew it was the final set of symptoms of the virus in his blood – soon, he wouldn’t be able to stay awake during the day for more than a few hours at a time, his sleep cycles turning upside down. The witching hour would become his, the darkness his new friend.

Every time he closed his eyes, Chanyeol was afraid he’d never open them again. Afraid that the person in the shadows would finally get him, and for good.

“Yeah, ‘s alright. Lots of late nights in the studio, that’s all,” Chanyeol said instead, trying to smile. Jongdae watched him, a strange look on his face before he smiled back.

“Okay.”

“You sound like you don’t believe me.”

Jongdae threw his hands up, palms facing out in a gesture of peace.

“I do! But hey, your hyung is always going to be here for you okay? I’m only a phone call away, just send me a text if you have too much work or something.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve got to get back to work, yeah? So…”

Jongdae laughed shortly and stood up, stretching his arms. He sloppily wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, and Chanyeol cringed.

“You don’t have to kick me out so soon, cuz,” he pouted, reaching over to pet Chanyeol’s head. Chanyeol ducked, not wanting gross ramyun gravy in his freshly washed hair, and Jongdae rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah now get out.”

Jongdae picked up his stuff, and when he was halfway to the door, he turned around.

“If you don’t want to hit up that cute Byun boy, I just might, eh?”

“He’s too young for you, _old man._ ”

Jongdae was twenty six and enjoyed acting childish; only Chanyeol knew it was because he was sensitive of “growing old and wrinkly”. That also meant Chanyeol was currently thanking his newfound superhuman reflexes for saving him from French-kissing a newspaper. Maybe Jongdae should’ve considered taking up baseball instead of law.

With a final slam of the door, Chanyeol sunk back into the worn softness of the sofa, the smile vanishing off his face. Jongdae might have found ageing an unsightly process, but he had no idea how lucky he was to be living a normal life. Chanyeol wasn’t sure how long he could pull off looking twenty two before people began to suspect him of unnatural practices.

Ah, but he _was_ unnatural wasn’t he? If only he could write songs about the ache in his throat everytime he smelt blood, the terrifying dreams that lurked in his room every night, the absolute _loneliness_ he felt. Chanyeol was the only vampire he knew, and it made him so sad sometimes.

He got up and walked to his studio room, sitting down to finish off his new song.

 

_‘Forever Young’, composed & written by Park Chanyeol.  _

 

If only they knew.


End file.
